


Rockstar!lock: Unheathily in Love

by Fluffy_Ass_Socks (Luxurious_Pixeled_Lullimons)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Tiny bit smutty near the end, John is 21, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Mystrade Mentioned, Rockstar!lock, Sherlock is 19
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1260847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxurious_Pixeled_Lullimons/pseuds/Fluffy_Ass_Socks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title says all. Rockstar!lock. Simple but practically expected. Enjoy.~</p><p>Damn this delay, I'm not able to access the computer that I drafted the fic on. So shit. :c</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: Meeting Anew

**Author's Note:**

> John's dream could become reality. But not in this chapter~
> 
> I have been told that it is spelled bassist. Thank you and terribly sorry autocorrect can't spell~

John dipped his head, the corners of his vision blurred. Again. Again. His arms were pulled back so hard they were numb. Well, he couldn't exactly feel anything at the moment. It was just a dream, after all.   
~~~~~  
John jolted from his dream in a cold sweat. Why had he dreamed of _that?_ He wasn't gay! He wasn't even bi! What the absolute shit?! Why had he enjoyed it?! Ah, whatever. Dreams were never accurate. John would _never_ Do that with anyone. He had to admit, he was always a goody-two-shoes. He hoped he wouldn't get a reputation at Cambridge this year. First year. God damn. Already 21. Wow. Luckily, he wasn't a Virgin anymore. Thanks to Kacie and Mary. But, girls asked for so much! He wasn't made of bloody money! So he'd set off dating for two months, and hated it. He had needs as well. He liked cuddling, kissing...others things. 

His phone rang, snapping him from his thoughts. He reached for it, flopping down on his bed and clicking the button. 

"Yellow?"

"John, you don't see me answering the phone like 'Red'! or 'Blue'!"

This made John burst Into giggles. 

"Sorry Molly, what's up?"

"The concert! You promised to come you bastard!"

"Where did this explosiveness come from?"

"I'm just mad. Come, please?"

"When is it?"

"In about an hour."

"You could've called earlier."

"I did. You were sleeping, I presume."

"...Maybe."

Molly sighed. "Don't wear anything to...posh. You'll get mugged."

"I don't have anything 'posh'."

"Then don't wear anything weird! Like a jumper."

"My jumpers are cozy and that's all I have other than 'posh' wear."

"Suit yourself."

"I thought you said not to look posh."

"Oh shut up! I sent you the address of the park it'll be in. See you!"

"Kay then."  
~~~~~~  
About forty minutes later, John was in his black and white jumper. He didn't exactly like it because it was starting to hug his belly in ways he didn't think acceptable. Even if he was a bit, well, ripped from practice at the gym. He had to be fit to be an Army Doctor, like he wanted. He grabbed his black trainers and adjusted his white skinny jeans. He sighed as he walked down the stairs to get To his car.    
~~~~~  
He reached the rave-looking concert within minutes. A band was already up on stage, the crowd below head banging along. God damn. 

He spotted Molly and Mike in a corner by the loos. John waved, locking his car with a click of the remote and jamming it in his pocket. He gave a small smile and began a new chat about how weird everyone else looked compared to him. They snickered about what they thought their teachers would be like. John was in the middle of mimicking his Maths teacher from last year when Molly squeaked and covered her mouth with her hand. 

"What?"

Molly pointed towards the stage with her free hand. A new band had come out, all looking exceptionally good. He followed Molly's finger to See she was pointing at the bassist. John couldn't lie. He would squee too. 

The bassist looked ravishingly magnificent. His skin was pure ivory itself with dark curls flopping around his forehead. His eyes were icily greenish, but they seemed to change by the minute. He had a tight pair of black skinny jeans on with a mesh top shirt. It had a logo plastered on it, probably the bands.  He also had a leather jacket on with various, useless looking zippers. John noted the collar on his neck. Oh how it made the boy look delicious. Just to imagine, pulling him along using a collar like that, wait. What? No, what?! Why?! He _wasn't _gay. Why the hell?!__

"Just a little crush, Molly. I heard he's a total douche." Mike muttered, butting into John's thoughts. 

John cleared his throat, nodding. 

"Yeah, I don't suggest him. Not very good looking either." What a shit lie. 

"Yeah, you're probably right. Can you, Erhm. John, can you please try to get his autograph after they're done preforming?"

"Sure." Why had he replied so fast? "Y-yeah. Heh."  Damnit.   
~~~~~  
The bassist was beautiful. He played the cords beautifully. He was a beauty in itself. So amazingly...beautiful. His locks bounced as he played. The lights made his hair and eyes shine magnificently. He was skinnier than a damn pencil.

 He looked over the audience a couple times, almost with disgust? Then, his eyes met John's. The bassist gave John a smug smile and turned his attention back to his playing, for it was his solo time. John's breath Caught in his throat, resulting in a coughing attack. My god. Why did this boy make him act this way?   
~~~~~  
The band had finished. It felt like an eternity and a second all at the same time. Right, autograph. How the hell was he going to Do this? Molly had let John borrow her pencil and paper. He hardly had any time to think, for he had already reached the room. 

**SH- Bassist**

SH? Hm, what could that beautiful man's name be? It had to be equally enthralling. No, no. Autograph. Not his name. He would get his name from the autograph. 

He had only time to knock once before the door swung open and someone swept him in. John gave a surprised cry  as he was thrown to the other side of the small room and pressed against the wall. He dropped the pencil and paper, hearing it clatter to the floor. My god. 

John sucked in a breath, waiting for the mysterious man to speak, almost coughing from the heavy smell of fags. He could see from the corner of his eye the door shut with a small click of the lock. Locked in. He was fucked. He gulped. The boy was much taller than him indeed. After a couple more moments of silence, the boy backed away and settle on his bed. More like flopping like a rag doll on it. John was oh so confused. 

"Hello." he squeaked. Squeaked? John Watson does not squeak. Well, now he does. He cleared his throat. "Scuse me?" No answer either time. Well that was rude, first he had been pushed against the wall and cornered, now he was being ignored? 

"Excuse me." John said with a bit more authority in his voice. 

The boy gave no recognition he even existed. 

"Hey! You're being awfully rude, you know!"

"Get used to it."

Oh, the boys voice was like heaven dribbled in honey. 

"W-What?"

"Don't stutter. It makes you seem idiotic. Not that you aren't."

"What was that for?"

"I assume you meant the rash welcoming. Merely for information."

"Oh yeah? What 'information' did you obtain then?"

The boy looked over to him, his eyes forced into slits. 

"Your name is John Watson, you are 21, first year Cambridge. You have two friends waiting for you outside. You have a mother, father, abusive, sister, alcoholic partying lesbian. You don't really care for this concert and me but instead came here to get an autograph for your friend. You happen to be wearing the red pants your sister gave you for your birthday a couple years back as a joke. Really, don't try to act smug around me for it obviously doesn't work." The boy ended with an annoyed huff, As if he expected John to throw him down and kick his face in. 

Even John surprised himself when the words came. 

"Absolutely brilliant."

"What?" the boy looked back over to him, as if he thought John was lying. 

"Amazing, brilliant, extraordinary."

"Really? That's new." he smirked, mostly for himself, John assumed. 

"Don't people always tell you you're amazing?"

"Not once."

"What Do they normally say?"

"Piss off." 

This made John laugh. He was soon surprised to see The boy chuckle along with him. John picked up the pencil and paper, turning to leave. 

"Wait."

John looked back to the bassist. He was surprised to see him right behind him. John watched him take the pencil and paper and use a wall to sign an autograph. He handed it back, closing John's hand around the pencil. John gulped, looking up at him, then down at the paper. 

_Call me, love. -SH_

A number. For him. No, for Molly. Oh. For Molly. John noticed how his charisma dropped and his face fell. But why?

"Not for your friend, idiot."

He grabbed the paper, folding it and placing it in John's pocket. He leaned in and whispered in John's ear, sending spine tingling shudders through John,

"For _you_."

John gasped, falling back into the nearest wall. The boy's devilish smirk curled his lips. John gave one curt nod, ducking his head and abandoning the room quickly. He squeezed the pencil in his hand. God. 

He got back to an impatient Molly and Mike soon enough.

"So, where's the paper?"

"Erhm," Excuse. Come on John. "He threw the paper in the bin and nearly stabbed me with the pencil." Oh yeah, right. 

Molly seemed to droop. 

"I kinda expected that."

She held out her hand for her pencil, but John didn't want to give it back. He had to. Come now, open your hand. There. He cleared his throat. 

"Well, I'll be seeing you guys."

"Hey, wait! We still need to get piss drunk. There's a bar." Mike chuckled. 

Drunk. Get drunk, or go home and talk to the boy. Hm...

**To be continued~**


	2. Chapter Two: Happily Sexting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not as smutty as the chapter title makes it seem.~

John had decided. He had no need to get drunk and drive into a pole. Plus, he had a nice new bassist to talk to. He shook his head. 

"No thanks. I'm busy with...things."

"New girlfriend, eh? Good luck, mate!" Mike whispered. 

John nodded unconsciously, turning to jog over to his car. No vandalisms today.   
~~~~~  
God. _How_ could he Do this. How is he supposed to call the sexiest bassist alive without fan girling all over the phone? Shit. Maybe he should just text.   
~~~~~  
Two hours. Two hours staring at his phone, typing, deleting, then re-typing.  What the hell was he supposed to say? 

**Damnit why Do you make my mind go blank so I can't actually text you. -JW**

As soon as it sent, John gulped. He hadn't meant to send it. Fucking hell. He flopped onto his bed in remorse. He was surprised that there was a response at all, even more surprised at what it said. 

**I suppose that was a compliment. Or a mis-send. Sadly, I am not looking for a relationship. Not exactly my area. So I must regretfully decline, my dear Watson. -SH**

John stared at the words. He wasn't interested. No. No, of course he wasn't! Why should John care? He wasn't asking!

**Sorry, mis-send. Wasn't asking. So, how were you the rest of the day? -JW**

**Denial is the first step of a crush, is it not? My day was dull. Drunkards. You? -SH**

**No, it's not. My day was pretty uneventful. Other than meeting you. -JW**

**What a surprise. -SH**

John chuckled. This man was a smug git. 

**Where are you?-SH**

**What? In my house I suppose. -JW**

**Where in your house, imbecile. -SH**

**On my bed, texting you. -JW**

The response was delayed. Very delayed. 

**Mind sending a picture? -SH**

**What? Of course I mind! Why the hell would you want a picture? -JW**

**...Is that a no? -SH**

Smug git. 

John took a shaky breath. So basically, he was taking a selfie and sending it to an almost stranger with a possible picture fetish? Okay. Nothing John Watson couldn't handle. He sat back at the head board of his bed and snapped a picture, not really caring what he looked like. His hair did look a bit disheveled and his cheeks were flustered. From the situation he was in, obviously. He sent it hurriedly, placing the phone face down on the bed spread. The response was quick. John looked at his screen to have his blush deepen. Fucking hell. Here it was, a picture of Him, laying on the bed he had when John was in the room at the concert, biting his lip and looking innocent and devilish at the same time. 

**You're still wearing the same clothes as you were earlier. -SH**

**Yes. As are you. -JW**

**It would appear so. -SH**

**Hey, you haven't told me your name, or age. -JW**

**You haven't asked. -SH**

**Now I am. -JW**

**19: Sherlock Holmes, at your service. -S** H

John breathing hitched. Such a beautiful name. Oh how wonderful. John forgot about his response, instead focussing on getting dressed for bed. 

When he got back, he had two texts and a picture. 

**Hey, don't just forget about me. -SH**

{Sherlock positioning himself on  his bed in a seductive pose.}

**Please?-SH**

John gulped. Good thing you can't tell emotions from texts because right now, John would be squealing. 

**Sorry, got changed.- JW**

**...May I see? -SH**

John Sighed, shaking his head but willingly sending another photo of him. He was wearing a light blue t-shirt with red and white pajama bottoms. 

**You are an expert in selfie-taking. -SH**

**Indeed I am. Have you changed yet? -JW**

**Of course. -SH**

He could hear Sherlock purr from here. John blushed the deepest crimson found in history. Sherlock was wearing a blue silk dressing gown, and only a blue silk dressing gown. 

**That's not fair. I'm not going to sext a bassist I just met earlier today. -JW**

**I did specifically say to call. -SH**

**Not tonight, I think I'll hit the hay. See you tomorrow?- JW**

At this moment, a call buzzed his phone's screen awake. Sherlock. He answered it. 

"What?"

 _"Good night, sweet Watson~."_ the voice of an angel purred from the other side. 

"Sherlock..."

Beep. Hung up. God. Now he had to think about _that_ all night. My god. He had said himself he wasn't interested. And frankly, John wasn't gay. But Sherlock was oh so the damn tease. 

**To be continued~**


	3. Chapter Three: A Tedious Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John doesn't particularly enjoy meeting the rude man in Sherlock's room. Nor does he feel comfortable with ruining Sherlock's dressing gown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay!

John moaned, but it sounded distant. The room he was in was bright, blurry. His arms were pulled back hard as he was slammed Into from behind.   
~~~~~  
John woke from another wet dream, shaking his head, trying to force the memory out of his brain. As soon as he turned to his phone on the bedside table, it buzzed. John caught it, looking at the screen. 

**Morning~ -SH**

**Indeed it is. -JW**

**I didn't wake you, did I? -SH**

**Was it from that dream? -SH**

John let his cheeks flush pink with anger and embarrassment. 

**No. -JW**

**Of course it wasn't. -SH**

**Hey I forgot to ask, how long are you staying in town for the concert? -JW**

**Three more days. But I live in London, not far from the park. Just decided to borrow one of their rooms. -SH**

**Okay. Are you gonna preform later today? -JW**

**Obviously! -SH**

**Sorry. -JW**

**Were you planning on watching? -SH**

**Maybe. If my friends ask. -JW**

**You'll come on your own, John. -SH**

**Are you still dressed? -SH**

**...Of course I am! Why? -JW**

**Send a picture. I need evidence, for an experiment. -SH**

**What? No, what evidence? Are you posting the pictures I sent you on a site or something?!-JW**

**Of course not. I would _never_ Do that to you. -SH**

**For an experiment, John. -SH**

**Please?-SH**

John was about to snap a picture when he got a text. From Sherlock, of course. 

**On second thought, make it a video. -SH**

John grumbled under his breath. 

**I have a live video feed app, would that be better? -JW**

**Yes. Most definitely. -SH**

John opened the app, Resting his back on the headboard. He waited for it to load, pressing the stream button when it did. He typed Sherlock's info and got the feed to send to him Alone. 

"Happy?" John exclaimed dramatically. 

**Very much so. -SH**

"So what type of information Do you need from me?"

**Nothing, keep talking. -SH**

"Why? Oh whatever. Hey, I would like to come see you play again. You were magnificent."

**Yes yes. -SH**

"Sherlock? Are you-"

**Yes John. Now say something, anything. Now. -SH**

"What the fuck, Sherlock?"

John tilted his head back and rubbed his fingers on the bridge of his nose. 

"Don't tell me you just fucking did that."

**You've ruined my dressing gown. -SH**

John closed the app, processing what just went on. Sherlock, a 19 year old genius, had just wanked to him. What the- why. Why was John pleased? Sherlock had picked him. Over all the others in the world, him. At this moment, his phone buzzed, signaling a call. John answered hesitantly. 

"Thanks for the very much needed, information."

"Cut the shit."

"It was needed! I had to Do something with it!"

"With-ugh. Why? What the bloody hell, Sherlock?!"

"You're over reacting."

"Over reac- no. I'm hanging up."

"So I'll see you at 1?"

"N-...Maybe."

"Hope to see you. Come in with a knock and my conformation."

"I'm not gonna visit your room again."

"So sure of yourself, you are. Whatever. Laterz."

The receiver beeped. What had he just agreed to?  
~~~~~~~  
John had been nervous since Morning. He ran a hand through his slightly tousled hair once more. These skinny jeans were particularly tight around his Thighs, so he couldn't pull them Past his...well, arse. He didn't exactly like sagging. He'd worn a black Tee with the old Tom Baker Doctor Who logo. He got out of his car, wrapping his Hollister sweater around his waist, mostly to cover his backside. Good thing the shirt was big, or he'd get arrested. He'd worn his black trainers to match the shirt. John basically waddled over to the back, pushing the door open and walking into the hallway of stars. John shuffled over to Sherlock's room, getting used to the feel of his jeans. He rapped at the door quietly. 

"Come in."

That wasn't Sherlock's voice. The voice was, posher. Maybe even older. Yes. 

John pushed the door open with a turn of the knob. He was quite surprised to see two figures he never had. 

"Who are you?" the one on the right asked. 

"Watson, is that not correct?" asked the one on the left. 

"What? Yes, how did you-"

"Of course it is. I'm always right." 

He noticed the one on the left was wearing a rather posh suit. The one on the right looked like a cop, sorta. 

"Sorry, am I in the wrong room?"

"No, but you caught us at a bad time." the one on the right murmured. 

"Oh sorry, was I interrupting something?"

"Yes, something very private, now I would suggest you leaving. And..." the one on the left got up, using his height advantage. "Stay _away_ from Sherlock. You will _hurt_ him. You will _leave_. I hope to _never_ have to tell you this again. Got it?" Said the man to the left. 

The man's voice was so sinister, compared to his posher, gentler voice. John backed up out the door, nodding vigorously and turning to bolt down the corridor. 

Jesus Christ, that man was rude. Who does he think he is? Well, no use staying here. Might as well go ho-

Then he saw him. Sherlock was on stage, playing his little heart out. God, he looked sexier than before! Fuck, how could he leave when Sherlock was like this! But what if that man came round and saw him. Jesus, I suppose I should leave.

What John didn't see, were the beautiful ever-changing eyes that followed him, watched him enter his car and drive away until he was out of sight.  

**To be continued~**


	4. Chapter Four: I Missed You Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finds John's house and they hang. {Drabbles-Sorri ;-;}

**[1:55 PM] Don't go. -SH**

John was surprised at the text. He was already more than three quarters to his house when he got Sherlock's text. He didn't know what to say. Should he tell Sherlock about the man? Maybe, he shouldn't answer for the time being...wrong choice. 

**[2:16 PM] John, please. I miss you. -SH**

**I was looking forward to meeting you once more. -SH**

**[3:14 PM] You owe me for my dressing gown. -SH**

**[3:27 PM] John, I know you can see my texts. -SH**

**Ignore him. The people in my room. The one that scolded you was my brother. He's stupid. -SH**

**[3:40 PM] Please? -SH**

**Your brother is awfully protective. -JW**

**What did he say to you? -SH**

**Stay away from you, hope to never have to have this conversation again. The lot. -JW**

**Well, ignore him. Come back. -SH**

**I can't. Got some projects I have to catch up on. -JW**

**Can I come over? I'll finish them for you. I bet they're easy. -SH**

**No Sherlock, I'm good. -JW**

**Please. I want to. I'll be nice. -SH**

**I'm not gonna tell you my address. -JW**

**But Joohhnnn. Jaawwwnnn. -SH**

**No. I'm turning off my phone. -JW**

**No! Please?...oh, Nevermind. -SH**

**What? Nevermind what?-JW**

**See you in five. -SH**  
~~~~~~  
Sherlock and John had ended up spending the rest of the day together after Sherlock had mysteriously found John's flat. They'd done all the things they could think of, including finish all of John's project for the next two months. It was 8:30 by the time they'd finished everything. They both flopped onto the queen-sized bed. It had only been two days in the meeting, and they were already closer than best friends. Friend, yes, Sherlock is a good friend. Other than the casual snide remark, he was so different. Sherlock's deep baritone cut into his thoughts, making him shiver. 

"Hey, you gonna watch me tomorrow?"

"Watch- at the park?"

"Yes, obviously." Sherlock tutted quietly. 

"Well, I need to be sure. I'm not a super-genius, as if you hadn't noticed."

"I must admit, you're a tad smarter than he average human being."

"Oh, thanks." John said sarcastically, smiling at the little compliment Sherlock had tried to give. 

Sherlock's head turned, looking to John silently. He stared for minutes before John cleared his throat, turning to look away. God, if Sherlock kept looking at him like that, he'd come in his pants like a little schoolboy. Fuck. 

"John. Why Do you stay?"

"What? Well..."

"Why Do you stay with me. Why don't you kick me out?"

"Because you're not annoying, mostly, you're absolutely brilliant, and you're my, friend."

Sherlock froze at that last word John said. 

"Sherlock?"

No response. God had John ruined it? No, what was Sherlock doing?!

Sherlock leaned forward, getting closer and closer to John's face. John's eyes grew wide. Would Sherlock really kiss him?! Sherlock continued past John's lips, back to his ear. Sherlock whispered two words that he hadn't said in years to anyone. 

_"Thank you."_

**To be continued~**


End file.
